him glue it back. And no, of course she wouldn't tell, not even Mom and Dad, pinkie promise. And when Ben had noticed anyway and confronted Alex, Katie said it was her fault, she had done it. And Ben had just let it go. Alex wondered if Ben knew- after all, what was Katie doing with a G.I. Joe?-and thought maybe Ben just couldn't stay mad once Katie stepped in. She was like a force field against anger and hate and accusations.
He dropped to his knees beside the bed, buried his face in the denuded mattress, and sobbed her name over and over. Where was she? How could she be gone, without even any evidence that she'd been there? It was impossible. He couldn't get his mind around it.
He cried until his throat was raw and his back throbbed, until he was so exhausted and drained he couldn't feel anything anymore. Then he stood and took one more slow look around the room.
Katie was gone. And if something like this could happen to Katie, who was as joyous and good and alive a person as Alex had ever known, who liked everyone and laughed at everything and had not a single enemy, then the best thing you could say about the universe was, it was random.
But randomness was merely a logical possibility. What Alex felt in the deepest places within himself was different. In his gut and his bones, he knew the universe wasn't random, or indifferent, or in any way benign.
The universe was hostile. You couldn't count on anyone against that. And Alex wouldn't forget it.
He lay in the tub for twenty minutes and was just thinking it was enough, he could sleep now, when he heard something downstairs. It sounded like the mail slot in the front door. These days he was never home when the mail came, but he knew the sound well enough from when he was a kid. This time it was softer than he remembered- stealthier?-but he recognized it just the same.
He sat up, water running down his back. Oh, come on. No one was looking through the mail slot at two in the morning. He was just keyed up, that was all, which was why he was in the bath in the first place.
Right. He was being silly. Even so, he sat very still for a moment, breathing silently through his mouth, his head cocked, concentrating on listening.
There was nothing. He was definitely being silly.
He closed his eyes and settled back. Maybe he'd soak for a few more minutes.
He heard a quiet click from downstairs.
His breath caught. He sat up and listened.
A few seconds went by. There was nothing.
It's an old house. The floor settles, joints groan. How often are you awake at two in the morning to hear anything? This is just what the house sounds like this late.
He let out a long breath. Christ, he really was jumpy. At this rate, he was going to have to stay in the bath all night.
He heard another sound. A quiet scraping, the movement of a rubber weather strip over a metal threshold. The front door.
Suddenly his heart was hammering so hard he could hear it echoing in his ears. He almost called out, Who's there? but managed to stop himself. Who do you think is there? he thought, fighting panic.
A burglar. There was no other explanation. If he called out, it might scare him away. But if it didn't
Without thinking, he placed a shaking hand on the edge of the tub and eased himself soundlessly out. Water ran down his body onto the floor and he was suddenly freezing. He thought frantically of what he might use as a weapon. Knives in the kitchen. Golf clubs in the garage.
Here, goddamn it. Something here.
His heart was thudding like a war drum. He fought to control his breathing.
There were some cleaning products in the cabinet under the sink. He didn't know what exactly; whatever the maid used. But there might be something. If he could just stay quiet, quiet
He heard the sound of rubber over metal again. The front door, this time being closed.
He eased the bathroom door shut and quietly locked it. Even as he did so, he knew it was pointless. It was nothing but a little privacy button, you
He dropped to his knees beside the bed, buried his face in the denuded mattress, and sobbed her name over and over. Where was she? How could she be gone, without even any evidence that she'd been there? It was impossible. He couldn't get his mind around it.
He cried until his throat was raw and his back throbbed, until he was so exhausted and drained he couldn't feel anything anymore. Then he stood and took one more slow look around the room.
Katie was gone. And if something like this could happen to Katie, who was as joyous and good and alive a person as Alex had ever known, who liked everyone and laughed at everything and had not a single enemy, then the best thing you could say about the universe was, it was random.
But randomness was merely a logical possibility. What Alex felt in the deepest places within himself was different. In his gut and his bones, he knew the universe wasn't random, or indifferent, or in any way benign.
The universe was hostile. You couldn't count on anyone against that. And Alex wouldn't forget it.
He lay in the tub for twenty minutes and was just thinking it was enough, he could sleep now, when he heard something downstairs. It sounded like the mail slot in the front door. These days he was never home when the mail came, but he knew the sound well enough from when he was a kid. This time it was softer than he remembered- stealthier?-but he recognized it just the same.
He sat up, water running down his back. Oh, come on. No one was looking through the mail slot at two in the morning. He was just keyed up, that was all, which was why he was in the bath in the first place.
Right. He was being silly. Even so, he sat very still for a moment, breathing silently through his mouth, his head cocked, concentrating on listening.
There was nothing. He was definitely being silly.
He closed his eyes and settled back. Maybe he'd soak for a few more minutes.
He heard a quiet click from downstairs.
His breath caught. He sat up and listened.
A few seconds went by. There was nothing.
It's an old house. The floor settles, joints groan. How often are you awake at two in the morning to hear anything? This is just what the house sounds like this late.
He let out a long breath. Christ, he really was jumpy. At this rate, he was going to have to stay in the bath all night.
He heard another sound. A quiet scraping, the movement of a rubber weather strip over a metal threshold. The front door.
Suddenly his heart was hammering so hard he could hear it echoing in his ears. He almost called out, Who's there? but managed to stop himself. Who do you think is there? he thought, fighting panic.
A burglar. There was no other explanation. If he called out, it might scare him away. But if it didn't
Without thinking, he placed a shaking hand on the edge of the tub and eased himself soundlessly out. Water ran down his body onto the floor and he was suddenly freezing. He thought frantically of what he might use as a weapon. Knives in the kitchen. Golf clubs in the garage.
Here, goddamn it. Something here.
His heart was thudding like a war drum. He fought to control his breathing.
There were some cleaning products in the cabinet under the sink. He didn't know what exactly; whatever the maid used. But there might be something. If he could just stay quiet, quiet
He heard the sound of rubber over metal again. The front door, this time being closed.
He eased the bathroom door shut and quietly locked it. Even as he did so, he knew it was pointless. It was nothing but a little privacy button, you
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